Thursday, May 12, 2011


one party of lost souls
aim of the night(every night)
was clouded consciousness
memory forging
altered states

corners where cameras
were blind to our
dirty deeds, we hid
stationary like sly little
foxes keen on an escape

slurred words
dripping with old memories
me dripping, then they dripping more
we gave away filter-less
precious moments preserved for
no one in particular

we choose to inauthentically
build our own night
as we saw fit
a bunch of phony control freaks
is all they were.

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